


Like Always

by dramatical_rhyme



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: M/M, dmmd_kink_meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 13:17:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramatical_rhyme/pseuds/dramatical_rhyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night begins just like always and Mizuki is getting pushed to his limit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Always

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for this [prompt](http://dmmd-kink-meme.livejournal.com/2277.html?thread=40421#t40421) for the DMMd kink meme. I’m de-annoning after a week for every one that I write :] Enjoy!

It’s late. Mizuki grumbles to himself tiredly as he carries Aoba to his house. Always, he thinks. It’s always like this. He complaining, grumbling, yet he is doing what he always does; carrying Aoba piggyback back home after a night of drinking too much at the bar. This has to be… the third time in the past two months. Honestly, he wishes he could say he’s tired of it. But he isn’t, not really. The pressure of Aoba against his back is enthralling as well as calming. Aoba’s labored, hot breath on his neck makes his skin prickle in useless anticipation.  
  
It’s always like this. The walk home is the worst. Usually he can drop Aoba off in his bed with a little help from Tae, and then leave to go take care of himself at home. That’s how it usually goes. Mizuki assumes that tonight won’t be any different, yet the incessant thudding of his heart tells him he hopes otherwise. He hopes is very much.  
  
Mizuki hitches Aoba up on his back as they reach the house. The lights are still on, door still unlocked. He sighs in relief, though he’ll have to tell Aoba, once again, not to make Tae worry so much. She stays up for you, he tells him. Yet Aoba doesn’t seem to get it. Not always. Sometimes he will call Tae, or go home early. But then there are nights like this when he just doesn’t care.  
  
Mizuki politely knocks on the door, leaning to the side to keep Aoba on his back with only one arm. He hears a rush of footsteps and the door jerks open to reveal a flustered Tae. Mizuki smiles apologetically, and shrugs his heavy shoulder. Aoba mutters in his drunken sleep, causing Mizuki’s ears to turn red. Thankfully, Tae doesn’t notice the color change in his features and sighs, letting the two young men in.  
  
“You’d best just stay here tonight, Mizuki,” she tells him, looking into his eyes sternly. “It’s later than usual.” She grumbles and then touches his arm gently. “You can just take the extra futon in Aoba’s room.”  
  
Mizuki throws her a thankful smile as he edges towards the stairs. “Thanks Tae-san. I really appreciate it. I’ll see you in the morning.” He trudges up the stairs, puffing all the way. Aoba isn’t really that heavy, but carrying him the mile from the bar makes him so. It doesn’t help that Mizuki is a little tipsy as well, though he feels like he’s more than sobered up now.  
  
He drops Aoba on the bed the second he’s close enough, taking deep breaths of air. He scowls at his friend, crossing his arms. It’s not fair, he complains in his head. Aoba is always drunk, always teasing him with his soft touches, hot puff of breath, fluttering eyelashes against his neck, roaming hands when he’s being carried. It’s not fair, Mizuki thinks sadly, that I can’t do anything in return.  
  
He drops to the floor, watching as Aoba rolls around in bed. His long blue hair is fanned out almost perfectly on the pillow and his long eyelashes flutter in a dream. Mizuki’s hands itch to touch him, be he holds back. It’s almost like Aoba knows Mizuki is there and he’s teasing him on purpose; he shoves a hand up his shirt causing it to slide up to reveal his pale skin.  
  
Feeling drains from Mizuki going straight to his groin. His hand shoots down to meet that throbbing desire. Reason asks him what he’s doing, but at the current time, Mizuki can’t listen to it. He’s too desperate. Aoba groans in his sleep; Mizuki moves his hand faster, curling around himself. He’s embarrassed, frightened, sizzling with adrenaline.  
  
Closing his eyes he pants, trying to keep quiet as he forces himself to the edge. Pleasure bundles in his lower abdomen, making his toes curl. And suddenly there is hot breath on his face.

Mizuki jolts, his eyes popping open in shock, hand coming off his cock in surprise. Aoba is on all fours staring at him with lidded eyes and a smirk on his lips. “Caught you,” he breathes, the smell of alcohol wafting into Mizuki’s nose. He resists the urge to gag, still paralyzed in shock. Aoba blinks heavily, lips curved endearingly. He reaches out a hand, wobbling as he loses one leg of support, and presses it against Mizuki’s naked cock. “Shall I help?” He slurs, giggling.  
  
Mizuki jerks away, pulling his whole body away from his drunk, yet way too sexy, friend. He hates how he’s shaking; angry yet hopeful at the same time. “You’re drunk,” he gasps, eyes wide. Aoba is crawling towards him still. His pupils are dark like he wants something. He licks his lips. Mizuki gulps, fumbling with his zipper. “You’re drunk, Aoba, stop.”  
  
Aoba chuckles darkly, plopping himself in front of Mizuki, now cornered completely. “I’m not,” he says, though he most obviously still is. “Since I’m not, will you let me help you?” His voice is small, almost begging. Mizuki can barely hear him over the pounding in his chest. This isn’t like always, he thinks still shocked, frozen.  
  
Aoba places a hand on Mizuki’s and then pulls it away from his cock. “Let me do this.” He blinks up at Mizuki, seeing if his friend is going to stop him. Mizuki is too stunned to move, the feeling of Aoba’s slightly sweaty hand on his cock way too much stimulation already.  
  
When Aoba gets no answer, Mizuki is taken aback when he lowers his head to touch his lips to his trembling cock. Mizuki gasps, then moans, and tangles his hands in Aoba’s messy blue mop. “A-Aoba,” he groans, panting. Those lips are too much. They’re messy wet, and devoid of tact, but they're Aoba’s. And then that precious mouth is around him, swallowing him, sucking greedily. Mizuki takes one hand from Aoba’s hair to press against his lips. It’s tough, but he holds back his sounds, minimizing them to tiny whimpers and gasps of insane pleasure.  
  
It’s over all too fast. Aoba scrapes his teeth up Mizuki’s length, and before he knows it he’s coming into that hot, slippery mouth. White stars explode in his line of vision and he convulses with the strength of his orgasm, unconsciously pressing his cock deep into Aoba’s throat as he does. The second he’s done he falls back, exhausted, relaxed, completed. My life is complete he thinks, only then remembering that someone was actually sucking him off.  
  
He shuffles into coherency, staring at Aoba who’s wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Mizuki watches, heart thudding dully, painfully, in his chest as his friends neck bobs in a swallow. Guilt and embarrassment wash over Mizuki. “You-,” he starts. But his mouth is dry. He swallows and continues, shaking in some kind of mix of anger, embarrassment, and sexual tension. “You swallowed it?” He squeaks, choking.  
  
Aoba smiles loftily, and then pushes himself up off the ground. He stretches, stumbles back to the bed, and collapses onto it. “That was fun,” he grins. His eyelids are drooping, sleep dragging him back down. “Let’s do it again.” And he’s gone.  
  
Mizuki stands up on drained, cramped legs. He swallows, swallows again, and the pulls the extra futon from Aoba’s closet. With luck, he won’t remember in the morning. Or maybe, Mizuki thinks, half hoping, he will remember, and he won’t mind.  
  
A hot, giddy blush rushes towards his face. He quickly lays out the futon, lays down on it, and promptly falls into a deep, satisfied sleep.  
  
Mizuki awakes the next morning to Aoba complaining about his mouth tasting strange; he hides his head in the pillow.


End file.
